A Charmed Life
by A Songbird
Summary: Because, much like Harry, we crave to learn more about Lily Evans and the most captivating, mysterious backstory the Harry Potter series provides.  Canon-oriented and inspired by "The Prince's Tale".


**A Charmed Life**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

**The Book and the Photograph**

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><p>"<strong>When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than any talent for abstract, positive thinking."<strong>

** -Albert Einstein**

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><p>"Wizards! Muggles!" Petunia's shrilly voice resonated through the warm air as she cackled with incredulity. "Who would believe such rubbish? And the nerve! Sneaking through the shrubbery and peeping on us like a little rodent… not as if you could expect Spinner's End to produce anything better. Still- the nerve!"<p>

Lily made small noises of agreement while trailing behind her irate sister. The threatening look she threw the small, unkempt-looking boy minutes ago faded from her face, replaced by a quizzical frown as she digested his sudden appearance and strange allegations.

"You _are _a witch," he'd told her.

It was ludicrous, and yet-

"He even admitted it, Lily, did you hear that? He actually said he had been watching _'for a while'_! Honestly, all of that nonsense- he must have come up with it just for a reason to talk to us!"

-yet, she was so accustomed to strange things happening around her that she had developed an uncanny ability to embrace "nonsense". This, perhaps, was the most striking distinction between herself and Petunia. Her sister had trouble appreciating eccentricity. In fact, she feared it. Lily, with her mysterious ability to blow bubbles the size of the moon, or emerge from the bathtub almost entirely dry, or even blow actual steam from her ears when angry (Petunia denied it, but their parents swore it happened), enjoyed quirks. And she knew that she, herself, was different.

"You've got to tell mummy, you've just got to! What if," Petunia trailed off slightly, a note of real fear creeping into her voice as she looked around furtively. "What if… he watches us all the time?"

"Wouldn't we notice if someone followed us around all the time?"

Petunia's glance was filled with exasperation. "Not if he was spying on us!"

"He did a rather bad job of that earlier."

"Like I said, we must tell mum and dad."

Privately, Lily thought Petunia was blowing recent events out of proportion. Although she disapproved of his methods, the boy did not look as if he meant any harm. Out loud, however, she merely murmured her agreement.

"You're right, Tuney. Witches and wizards… how nutty."

With that, she halfheartedly kicked a small rock lying on the sidewalk. Rather than scuttling a foot or two in front of them, it soared through the air as if launched by catapult. Narrowly missing a passing car, the rock squarely hit Mrs. Anderson's watering can with a _clang_. She immediately stopped tottering around her yard and shot Petunia and Lily a murderous glare.

Lily examined the toe of her shoe without surprise. "Come on," she said. "Let's hurry away before she starts to yell." The girls rushed home.

* * *

><p>Two weeks passed. Petunia insisted on avoiding the playground and Lily made no objection. Although not entirely able to dislodge his words from her memory, reflection convinced her that his story had indeed been a wild attempt at… well, Lily was not sure what the boy wanted in the first place. Either way, it seemed impossible that his story held any truth. Petunia was right: what he told Lily was rubbish. Lily resolved to return to the playground after a healthy amount of time passed, so as to teach the boy, gently but firmly, that spying on and jumping out at others was unacceptable way to make friends. She could only hope that he took her lesson to heart and treated his next victims with more civility.<p>

It was yet another crisp, sunny day when Lily's mother sent her to Mrs. Tates' to fetch a platter the latter borrowed for a family gathering. Lily decided to delay the walk home and forayed into the knot of woods near her house. Lily often enjoyed sitting at the bank of its small stream with a good book and a glass of lemonade during the summer. Today, she perched on a rock, unwrapped the cookie that Mrs. Tate gave her, and dipped her feet into the cool water. The dappled water gurgled as her feet altered its smooth, straight course. Experimentally, she lifted one foot. As usual, it emerged almost completely dry. Amused, she lifted the other foot with similar results.

Lily was so absorbed in her cookie and foot-dipping investigation that she missed the sound of footsteps nearby. It was not until she heard a distinct _crunch_ that she froze mid-chew, one foot still submerged in water and one dry foot raised in the air.

All was quiet. After several long seconds, Lily relaxed, dunked her foot back into the murmuring stream, and continued eating her treat.

_Crunch_.

This time, she most definitely had not been chewing. Lily whipped her head around and frantically searched for something, anything that could be making such a noise. This would not be an ideal time to run into a bear…

And then she saw him, just as he was attempting to extract his overly large shirt from a bramble bush. In the seconds it took to free himself, Lily abandoned her rock and stood with her hands on her hips.

"You!"

The boy had the decency to look embarrassed. He stared, his hands clutching the hem of his shirt. Lily trembled with a mixture of indignation and shock.

"How dare you spy on me again! How dare you! How completely rude! I can't- WAIT!"

The boy spun around and ran. Lily followed, hot on his heels.

"Wait! Stop! I want to… Can you just stop and… please stop and talk to me!"

The chase was over almost as soon as it began. The boy slowly turned around, panting slightly and looking wary.

Lily could not decide if she felt more angry or inquisitive; the former because he had been spying _again_, the latter because he was so peculiar. Her disgruntled brain was swarming with questions. Finally, she stammered, "Who… who are you?"

"I already told you."

Lily frowned, saying nothing. Really, this boy had awful manners.

"I'm a wizard, and you're a witch."

"Oh bother. Listen," Her hands returned to her hips. "Do you really think I'm daft? Because I will have you know, I receive top marks at my school. Ms. Parker says that I am the best reader in my entire class. I'm not stupid, so you can stop treating me like I am!"

The boy looked taken aback. He pushed his long hair behind an ear. "I don't think you're stupid."

"Right." Lily glared at him.

"I don't. I think you're-" He halted abruptly and his cheeks pinked. "Anyway, it's true, what I've been saying. You are a _witch_. You can do magic."

Lily had a hard time maintaining her glare when he looked so genuinely enthusiastic. The boy began pacing. "When you touch things, they grow. When you jump, you go higher than anyone else. When you're angry, things explode. Right? I know because these things happen to me too!"

"And you're saying its because of-"

"Magic, yes!"

He stopped pacing, face shining with conviction. Lily considered. The growing, the exploding, the ability to do things that other could not- these were all familiar. Nobody else ever understood her bizarre abilities, nobody else ever explained. Instinctively, Lily believed him. She did not think he was lying. But she thought of Petunia. She knew her older sister would not believe a word. It could be that the boy was simply a brilliant actor playing a prank with fellow comrades who were, no doubt, probably getting a good laugh somewhere nearby (although something deep down told her it was unlikely this boy had many friends). Lily needed to be practical.

"I still can't- I just don't… It's so ridiculous!"

The boy appeared so obviously crestfallen that Lily felt her face soften. "Perhaps if you could prove it to me…?"

Immediately the pacing resumed. He was slightly stooped as he moved back and forth, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs and muttering in hushed tones. Lily could barely make out his words. "If only… borrow mum's wand… no, that wouldn't… but…"

Moments later, he stopped pacing and looked up at her. "I think I can."

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><p>The next afternoon found Lily's feet making their way towards the stream in the woods. This time, the boy wasn't hiding. <em>Third time's a charm<em>, Lily thought to herself. The tables had turned.

He hopped up excitedly when he saw her approach, his baggy garments flapping with the movement. Lily wondered if he ever changed his clothing.

He thrust a black, heavy, and, but for the boy's fingerprints, dusty book into her arms. Lily's eyes widened as she took in the title: _A History of Magic_, by Bathilda Bagshot. The pages inside were as tattered as the cover; wrinkled, torn, and stained with age, as if the voluminous book woke up in the wrong century after a deep sleep. Lily peered inside the massive tome, taking in headings such as "Goblin Rebellions of the Early 16th Century", "Formation of International Confederation of Warlocks", and "New Zealand Wizarding Wars: 1805-1811".

If this was a prank, it was certainly the most elaborate one in the universe. And if the antiquated book was not substantial evidence that wizards and witches- and goblins and warlocks- truly existed, what the boy handed her next wiped all uncertainty from her mind.

It was a small photograph, the size of the pictures that Lily's father kept of her and Petunia in his wallet. In the picture sat the boy now standing in front of her. He looked slightly younger in the photograph, although his long, stringy hair and overlarge clothing were much the same. The woman behind him wore a plain, drab cloak and stood erect with one stiff hand lying on the boy's shoulder. The resemblance between the two figures was clear; they sported the same serious face, similar hooked noses, and identical sallow skin tones. But that was not why Lily lost her composure.

When she blinked down at the photograph, the figures blinked back. She gasped and threw a hand to her mouth. _They moved_.

She glanced at the back of the photograph, as if ensuring the figures were not really puppets manipulated by some unseen force. She held it up to the light. It was solid and real. But mostly, she stared down at the dark-haired boy and woman as they stared blinkingly back at her, shifting occasionally as if uncomfortable with their close contact.

"H-how?" Lily finally stammered.

"It's obvious. Magic!"

"I can't… this is incredible!"

"You believe me?"

She held incontrovertible proof in her hands. Even if she refused to believe, she didn't think she would be able to resist the appeal of the phenomenon presented by this photograph and the unknown world waiting inside the unexplored book.

"There's really no other way…"

Suddenly she felt overwhelmed with questions. She chose the simplest one.

"Is this your mum?"

The boy's triumphant expression quickly turned to one of embarrassment as he nodded.

"You… you said she is a witch? Also?"

"That's right."

"Is your dad a… wizard?" The word rolled hesitantly off her tongue. "Like you?"

"No." He answered with a faint scowl. Lily did not press the topic.

"So… your mum is a witch. Does that mean that my parents are magic also?"

"Of course not! You would know, wouldn't you? I mean, you and I know because stuff happens to us that we can't explain. Do any of those things happen to your parents?"

Lily glanced down at the photo in her hands and felt confusion. "How is it possible then?"

"Nobody knows. But there are plenty of your kind- Muggle-borns, I mean," he said hastily.

"Muggle-born…?"

"Means your parents are Muggles. They can't do magic."

"But Petunia- my sister- she must be magic!"

The boy shook his head vigorously. "No way. She's definitely a Muggle."

Lily remembered his derisive assessment of her sister on the playground and felt a stab of indignation. "Well that doesn't make any sense! If I'm a witch than she must be, too!"

He gave a small snort. "Trust me, she's not."

Lily shot him a dirty look. "You just don't like her! I heard the way you talked to her on the playground."

"No, I only meant-"

"How would you know, anyway? You've only seen us once! How do you _know_ she's not just like me?"

The boy's pale face turned a vivid shade of pink as he looked away quickly and muttered what sounded like "… a few times…" but Lily was too lost in her own thoughts to notice. Even as she argued for her sister, she knew it was a lost cause. Petunia never demonstrated the bizarre, evidently magical, abilities Lily illustrated on a daily basis. She tried to staunch the disappointment that her sister, with whom she shared everything, could not revel in the same joy she was now experiencing.

She pushed these dampening thoughts to the back of her brain and focused on the boy in front of her. She had so many questions to ask. The opportunity could not be ruined by a pointless argument.

"Well, I'm Lily Evans," she said, drawing herself to the fullest height and proffering her hand. He took it, his eyes widening.

"Severus… Snape."

"Well, Severus Snape. Good to finally meet you."

Lily would never forget how his eyes blazed the first time she said his name.

* * *

><p>"Tuney?" Lily whispered into the dark room. "Tuney!"<p>

There was stirring in the bed as Petunia shifted and sat up.

"Tuney… I couldn't wait… I have something to show you!"

Petunia's bedside lamp clicked on and a soft light radiated her tousled hair and groggy expression. Lily crawled next up to her and burrowed her feet underneath the comforter, placing the ancient book on her sister's lap.

"Just look."

Petunia read the title with a bewildered expression that grew even more confounded as she opened the tome and began rifling through its many pages. After a minute or so, she stared at Lily with an expression of profound confusion. Lily realized that her sister had no idea that she had been meeting the boy- Severus. She explained their second chance meeting. Petunia opened her mouth, surely to berate the boy, but Lily cut her off.

"I know what you're thinking Tuney, I was angry, too. I thought he was pranking me with all of that talk about witches and magic. But everything he told me made sense, like how I can make things grow and disappear and explode, and- no, Petunia, listen to me!" She exclaimed in hushed tones as her sister opened her mouth to interject. "You know as well as I do that I'm not entirely… normal. He is the first person I've met who can explain why-"

"_Magic_? Lily, magic is not an explanation."

"I didn't think so either. But you should have seen him, Tuney, something told me he wasn't making it up. He looked so… I can't explain. So I told him to bring me proof."

"And this is what he brought you?" Her voice clearly indicated that she was not impressed.

"Not only that, but-"

"How do you know it isn't just some book he found in an antique book store? Or that his mum is not simply mad and collects books like these because she thinks she is a…. witch?" She said the last word delicately, as if she did not want to disturb it for fear of attack.

"I don't know that, but-"

Petunia scoffed. "Lily, you can't go around believing everything people say."

"But just look at this!" Lily thrust the photograph into her sister's hands.

While walking home from the woods today, Lily had time to gather her thoughts. She determined that the first person she needed to tell was Petunia. It was this moment, handing her sister the photograph, that she anticipated with a great deal of anxiety. Eccentricity frightened her sister. What would happen when Lily placed evidence of _magic_ in her sister's very pragmatic hands? Would she tear it into pieces? Would she laugh and tease Lily for her gullibility? Or, would she simply be unable to see the figures moving because she was, as Severus insisted, a Muggle?

None of the above occurred. Petunia did not even examine it from all angles as Lily had done. She simply held it in her hands, Lily feeling as uneasy as Severus and his mother appeared in the picture. But when Petunia finally looked up, her eyes were filled with wonder and yearning.

"It's magic?"

Lily nodded. "Severus- that's the boy's name, you see- told me that all photographs in the magical world move."

Lily then explained everything that Severus had told her, about witches and wizards, Muggles and Muggle-borns, and Hogwarts, the wizarding school.

"Lily, if you're a witch that must mean that I am also!"

Lily shook her head. "Severus said that-"

Petunia's laugh was shrill and short. "_Severus_. Honestly, Lily, you can't believe him! Don't you remember? He spied on us. He doesn't like me. Of course he would tell you that I'm not a witch. But we have the same parents." She lowered her voice, although it did little to conceal her excitement. "If you are a witch, I am also!"

"I don't think that it works that way, Tuney."

"Why not?" She hissed.

Her tone caught Lily off guard. "I- you've never- I mean, you're… you're normal. Plus, Severus said that if you're a witch, you go to Hogwarts when you're eleven." She did not mention the obvious: her sister was already twelve years old.

Rarely was Petunia at a loss for words. She simply looked down at the photograph once more.

"Tuney," Lily kindly pressed. "I'll talk to Severus tomorrow, ask him if he's not completely sure-"

"Don't talk to _that boy_ about me," Petunia said with disgust. The wonderment that suffused her eyes moments ago was gone. "In fact, you shouldn't be talking to him at all."

Lily looked at her sister for a long time. Normally when she snuck into her sister's room after bed they stayed up talking long into the night, until their heads hit the pillow from pure exhaustion and their words hung suspended on their tongues. Sadly, tonight she surmised that her sister preferred to be alone. Removing her feet from the blissful warmth of the covers, she wrapped her arms around herself and headed to the door. Before pulling it open, she paused and turned.

"This doesn't change anything, Tuney."

Her sister looked up from the photo, straightened her spine, and lifted her head imperiously. "Goodnight Lily." With that, Petunia nestled into her covers and turned off the bedside lamp.

After Lily closed her sister's door, she swore she heard the soft _click_ of a lamp and the rustle of thin, aging pages belonging to a large, battered tome.


End file.
